Page 25 of Until Then

She arches a brow, her face lighting with interest. “Home, huh?”

“It’s a figure of speech,” I sputter, even as my face heats.

Laughing, she steps away and lifts a hand. “Go relax and try to sleep tonight.”

I hum and shift my car into drive. “Yep, I’ll try.”

As if I haven’t been trying for months. I’ve tried every herbal remedy under the sun and all kinds of yoga positions before bed. Despite my absurd attachment to my phone, I even left it in another room at night for weeks. Still, my quality of sleep didn’t improve.

I’m afraid I might be a lost cause.

“I love you. See you soon.” Via waves, taking another step back.

I give a soft “I love you too” before I roll up the window.

I shoot Derrick a text, warning him that I don’t plan to make dinner tonight since I gorged myself at book club. That way he can pick up his go-to artery clogging fast food. Whatever floats his boat.

His response is a simple thumbs-up emoji.

He’s not home when I arrive, which I expected. Afterletting Wonton out, I head straight for the shower, where I turn the temperature up so high I practically scald myself.

The bathroom is practically a sauna when I get out and wrap a towel around my torso. As I go through my after-shower routine, I quietly sing along to the music playing from my phone, swaying my hips to the beat. I spray leave-in conditioner into my hair and gently work through my long strands with a comb. My hair is past my breasts now, a feat I’ve accomplished without extensions, despite what rumors online might claim. I love my long hair, but there’s no denying it’s a lot of work.

When I’ve worked through all the tangles, I wash my hands and push my hair back with a headband so I can apply a face mask. The mask smells strongly of eucalyptus, and the charcoal color wants to adhere to my fingers. Once I’m finished, I scrub around my nail beds until they’re thoroughly clean, then I set the alarm on my phone so that I remember to wash it off.

I learned my lesson after I fell asleep while wearing a mask years ago. I broke out so badly that it took almost six months to get my skin sorted out.

When Wonton sniffs, I scowl down at him. “Listen, I know I need a pedicure, but it’s going to have to wait.”

He sneezes in response.

I finish up in the bathroom and change into my comfiest pair of pj’s—the kind of pj’s that are almost transparent and falling apart, yet feel so good I can’t bear to throw them away.

Downstairs, I find the house empty still. So far this week, Derrick has been home by this time. I tell myself not to worry. He’s probably working late or stopped for food or…

Or he’s on a date.

It’s an absurd thought.

Not because Derrick isn’t dateable. He’s the opposite, in fact. Fuckable, too. But hedoesn’tdate. My sister was the exception, and look where that got him.

Still, jealousy rises up inside me, rushing forward like a hot, uncomfortable wave.

My attraction to Derrick needs to take a hike. He’s not interested in me.

I’m probably feeling this way because it’s been so long since I’ve had sex. I’m just craving some touch. That has to be it. Right?

I settle on the couch with a bowl of popcorn—my favorite snack—and turn the TV on. Wonton jumps up and curls up next to me with his head on my leg. Nothing on TV captures my interest, so I end up scrolling through Netflix before eventually settling on one of my all-time favorite shows.

My love forGilmore Girlshas never wavered, despite how many times I’ve watched the series from beginning to end. Rory drives me nuts half the time, but my love for the small town and the mother/daughter antics keep me coming back.

Maybe that’s why I like Parkerville so much.

It’s like Stars Hollow in a way. Small and quaint, with unique people and town customs. Only it’s coastal and has more stoplights.

I’m halfway through the first episode when the front door opens. Derrick holds a bag from the local diner in his left hand, while he fights to get his key out with the other.

“Long day?”

---